So Near and Yet So Far
Luke 10:1-11
July 7, 2013[1]
When you see flashing blue lights, what is the
first thing that you think of?
I remember a Sunday evening when I was in about
the second or third grade. It was
shortly after Christmas, so it was dark.
I was riding in the back seat of the car with my best friend—I had spent
the afternoon with Keith and his family, and now we were returning to church
for the Sunday evening service. Keith
had received a flashlight as one of his Christmas presents that year. This was a special flashlight—a solid white
beam on the one end, and a flashing red light on the other end. This was in the days in which police cars
still used flashing red lights. At some
point along the way, Keith started the red light flashing to see if he could
make his dad think that he was being pulled over by the police. We were so proud when Keith’s grandmother,
also sitting in the front seat, gave her son that cold sounding rebuke, saying that she
kept telling him to slow down.
It is an odd thing to me how the presence of
police can be threatening to some and assuring to others.
I often have heard about how a child who grew
up in peaceful surroundings will look upon a police officer as a friend. Take a child who has grown up in an
atmosphere in which the police are “out to get them,” and they will respond to
the same police officer in fear. I saw
this first hand when I visited South Africa.
To this day, some people see the police as instruments of apartheid—of terrible segregation. Others see the police as care givers,
helpers. You don’t have to go too far
back in the history of the United States to see the same thing.
I see signs of this in our Gospel Lesson this
morning. Two times, Jesus reminds his
listeners that “the Kingdom of God has come near.” This takes place at a time when Jesus is
sending out a large group of followers to preach the Good News (some
translations say 70; others say 72, depending on which manuscripts they used
for their sources). This lesson takes
place soon after Jesus and his disciples were rejected by a village in Samaria;
the villagers knew that Jesus was on his way towards Jerusalem, and the old
prejudices were deep rooted. Jesus is
commissioning the group of 70 or 72 to go out in advance to the communities
through which he will be passing. Jesus
tells them that if they are received well in a community, they should spend
some time there, gratefully receive the hospitality of the people, heal the
sick, and tell the people that “the Kingdom of God has come near to you” (v. 9).
But if they are not received well in a
community, they should leave town, and on their way out, they should shake the
dust off of their feet in protest, and tell the people that “the Kingdom of God
has come near” (v. 11). Two messages with almost
identical words, yet with two very different meanings. The first time, it is a promise, a sign of
hope and healing. In the second, the
message is a warning. The context makes
all the difference.
But there is something else that jumps out at
me from those words. The Kingdom of God
has come near now—in the present tense.
The Kingdom has come here to stay.
It didn’t just pop up for a while 2,000 years ago and then disappear. It isn’t just a promise for some time in the
future that we can’t pinpoint. The
Kingdom of God is here today, if we can simply open our eyes to see it. That may be good news to us. That may be threatening news to us. But just the same, it is here, all around us.
I keep coming back to the words of Psalm
139. Do you remember these words? We just read them a few weeks ago:
7 Where
can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
8
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you
are there.
9
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10
even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
11
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night
around me,"
12
even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you (Psalm 139:7-12,
NIV).
This is not only a description of things
present. It is a reminder of things to
come. There is a word of judgment here;
it can feel threatening to those who have not experienced the Kingdom. However, instead of feeling threatened, we
can take this as a promise—a promise that:
If
we are lonely, God is here.
If
we are frightened, God is here.
If
we are sad, God is here.
If
we are happy, God is here.
If
we are feeling great, God is here.
If
we are suffering, God is here.
And when the day comes for us to end our
earthly journey, God will be with us too, for he promised, “I will be with you
always—even to the end of the age.
So if this is good news, why would people
reject this news? For some, it may have
something to do with past experiences. A
lot of damage has been done to people in the name of faith. For others, it has something to do with their
overall world-view. They just aren’t
capable of seeing what we see. They are
like the fish swimming around, looking for the ocean, without being able to see
that the ocean is all around them.
Naaman almost missed the Kingdom. In our Old Testament Lesson, the healing work
of God was offered to him in a way that was outside his frame of
reference. At first, Naaman rejected
it. He hadn’t traveled all the way from
Damascus simply to take a bath in the muddy Jordan River. There were plenty of much nice spas much
closer to the comforts of home. And to
think that Elisha the prophet didn’t even have the courtesy to come out of his
house to seen him. Naaman was able to
receive God’s healing only when he humbled himself and put aside his
preconceived notions about how healing should take place. And to think, he almost missed it.
Missing the Kingdom. Think of it as lost opportunities. To be so close to the Kingdom of God and not
even recognize it.
This is part of the reason that I think
Vacation Bible School is so important.
It’s not as though I think we will connect fully with every child. Sadly, the law of averages tells us probably
not. It’s not as though every child will
come here willingly, without a fuss.
It’s not likely that every child will encounter a spiritual mountaintop
experience. Some may be focused more on
the music, the crafts, the science journeys, what’s next for snacks. But in between all of those activities, they
will hear the Good News.
It’s a start in the journey—their faith
journey. Every time we can expose our
children to the love of God shown in Jesus Christ, that’s a good thing.
At the close of our Hymn of Response, I am
going to ask all who are participating in Vacation Bible School to come forward
so that we as a church can offer you a blessing. Just as when Jesus sent out the seventy (or
seventy-two) people, you have been sent by God to this place to share God’s
love with the children of Fluvanna County.
Some may accept you; some may reject you (although I truly hope we won’t
see our teachers shaking the dust off of their feet, even though they may feel
like it at times!). I hope that as you
enter this week, you won’t feel as though we are sending you as “lambs in the
midst of wolves” (v. 3). I hope you won’t do it with the feeling of
“it’s another VBS. I can’t wait until
this week is over.” Rather, I hope that
you will be able to recognize the mission field and the Kingdom.
Have you experienced the Kingdom this
morning? It has come very near to
you. Right here in Cunningham. May God open our eyes to see it this day!
Copyright
© 2013 by Thomas E. Frost.
All rights reserved.
[1] Preached at Cunningham
United Methodist Church in Palmyra, Virginia.
A version of this sermon also was preached on July 6, 2013 at Dogwood
Village in Orange, Virginia.
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